


You and I (Something About This Place)

by SqueegeeBecksXo



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14048775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueegeeBecksXo/pseuds/SqueegeeBecksXo
Summary: It's been a long time since you came aroundBeen a long time but I'm back in townAnd this time I'm not leaving without you.She had never pegged herself as overly romantic. She didn’t read Nicholas Sparks and she'd rather watch a crime drama then anything involving a love story. The idea that a person couldn't survive or live a fulfilling life without another made her eyes roll involuntarily. It was an overused trope at best, and one she didn't have time for.Yet there she was. Standing on the steps of a bar owned by a boy (a man) she'd found herself unable to live without. Memories of a life long forgotten made their way to the forefront of her mind as she reached for the cold metal handle.- or -A one shot heavily influenced by the song You and I by Lady Gaga that follows Betty and Jughead's relationship from the time they are 15 up to age 21. Lots of angsty introspection!





	You and I (Something About This Place)

**Author's Note:**

> When I can't get an idea out of my head what's the best thing to do? Write it down. I have been sitting on this idea for days and I couldn't move forward in my other fic until I got it out of me. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this. Follow me on Tumblr at serpentbettyj0nes and comment below what you think!

 

**Age** **21**

_It's been a long time since you came_ _around_

_Been a long time but I'm back in town_

_And this time I'm not leaving without you._

She had never pegged herself as overly romantic. She didn’t read Nicholas Sparks and she'd rather watch a crime drama then anything involving a love story. The idea that a person couldn't survive or live a fulfilling life without another made her eyes roll involuntarily. It was an overused trope at best, and one she didn't have time for. 

Yet there she was. Standing on the steps of a bar owned by a boy (a man) she'd found herself unable to live without. Memories of a life long forgotten made their way to the forefront of her mind as she reached for the cold metal handle. 

There was nothing different about the bar. The wood floor beneath her feet still groaned with every step she took, the lights above still filtered through the haze of smoke that billowed around her like a midnight fog, and the man she'd left on that warm summer morning, when the sun had only begun to slightly peak up through the horizon, still stood proud behind the bar, a white dish towel thrown over his shoulder and the grey crown shaped beanie still solidly placed atop his head. 

His steel blue eyes met her gaze as suddenly her shoes grew roots, anchoring her in place where she stood. His jaw clenched and she swallowed two years' worth of heartache and longing. Unlike the building they were standing in, he was different. Even from where she stood, under the dim lighting and through the smoky haze, she could see the subtle changes in his features. The hard edge to his stare, the soft tired lines that formed around his eyes. It was unmistakable. 

She wondered what he saw as he stared back at her. Could he see the sleepless nights; the months she'd spent crying as she clutched a t-shirt that had long ago stopped smelling like him to her chest. Was the stench of regret wafting off of her so strong that he could sense it through the sticky air, smelling of Marlboro Red's and Whiskey. 

As if controlled by some outside force her legs began to move, bringing her closer to him until she stood on the opposite side of the bar, a strong sense of unease rising in her gut. She hadn't thought this far in advance. She hadn't planned for the look in his eye, the one that was telling her to turn around and forget this stupid idea.  

For a moment Betty wished she had watched those stupid romantic comedy's or read at least one Sparks novel. Maybe then she would know what to do in this moment, when all her heart wanted her to do was reach out and touch him while her brain screamed at her to turn tail and run. She was a trope, she thought. A pathetic, love stricken, bleeding heart trope and if she didn't open her mouth soon she'd be a poorly executed one at that. 

Her mouth filled with sand as she pried it open with the jaws of life. It was now or never, the oldest cliché in the book.  

_"Hi."_

 The simplest two letter word she could think of. 

**Age** **15**

_Something,_

_Something about just knowing_

_When it's right._

Betty stood on the front porch of her two-story house, clenching her fists tightly to her sides as she watched her dad pack up what was once their family station wagon with his half of a life they all once shared. Her mother was seated at the kitchen table, swirling her finger around the edge of her crystal glass half filled with the clear liquid she and Polly had secretly tasted last year at Polly's birthday sleepover. The glass sang out, the resonance a piercing sound running through her ears she could never manage to make herself forget. 

It wasn't as though she didn't know this was coming. It had been a long year of cold shoulders, sleeping in separate rooms, and muffled screams from the other side of a closed door. When her dad left for "business" a month ago and came back three weeks later, knocking on a door he used to just enter freely, she knew. Her parent's marriage had dissolved and with it, everything she thought was important. 

Two hours after her dad had pulled away, leaving behind nothing but an empty closet, her mom announced she'd be back in a few days, that she needed a "break", and Polly was in charge. Ten minutes later Polly's boyfriend knocked on the door and Betty felt her chest tighten and the air seep from every window, open door, and crack in her house. She was suffocating on the failure that lingered in the air. 

She walked aimlessly, hugging her arms tightly around herself, as if her insides might fall out if she let go. The sun had gone down long ago, the streets and sidewalks around her now bathed in the dim orangey glow of the street lamps. Betty hadn't realized where she wondered off to until she saw the sign for Sunnyside Trailer Park come into view. 

She knocked lightly on the old aluminum door, not knowing if he would even be home. When it opened, she was greeted by one of the most familiar faces she had known. Jughead Jones had been her best friend since the day she punched Reggie Mantle in the face for calling him weird when they were five years old. It was a friendship forged in early childhood comprised of summers spent by Sweetwater River, long nights in front of the TV watching obscure old movies while their red headed best friend, the final link in their trio, groaned and complained, and unfailing support when one of them (usually Jughead) had to deal with life events far beyond their maturity level. 

In the past, it would have been Jughead tapping on her second story window from an unsteady ladder her parents never seemed to move from the side of their house, on nights when his dad would come home drunk and he was simply seeking refuge and a warm place to sleep. After her mom found Jughead asleep on Betty's floor one morning she'd gone out and purchased a thick sleeping bag and some extra pillows, all hidden away in the bench seat by Betty's window, waiting for him. 

Tonight, however, it was Betty's turn to seek refuge from a house that no longer felt like a home. They sat on the threadbare couch in Jughead's trailer, his old second-hand laptop asleep on the coffee table, as she told him about her dad leaving and her mom leaving and how she felt like the world was caving in on her. 

Jughead held her close while she cried, his long arms folding her up into his lap for as long as she needed. When morning filtered in through the dusty blinds, Betty realized she was still in Jughead's lap, held their firmly against his chest. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes she felt Jughead stir beneath at the same time she felt something stir inside her. 

Kissing him hadn't been a conscience decision she made, more like something that felt right, something that felt like home. From that day forward Jughead held her hand when they walked, kissed her on the lips often, and held her just as close on the nights she would find herself knocking on his trailer door. 

**Age** **16**

_Sit back down on the couch where we made love the first time_

_And you said to me there's_

_Something, something about this place._

She knows she should be scared, if not for him, maybe at least for herself and what this all might mean, but as she watches Jughead pull the heavy leather over his broad shoulders, blood still dripping from the dozen or so small wounds that liter his face, she can't help but feel anything less than exhilarated. 

It wasn't a decision she could make for him, to run the gauntlet and join the gang known as the Serpents, the very same gang that had landed his dad in jail not more than a week prior, but it was one she understood. The need for a community, for a family, for a place to belong that was his and only his was something she couldn't fulfil for him. Try as she might, she couldn't heal the wounds of abandonment left by his mother when she left in the middle of the night taking his little sister and his childhood with her. She couldn't kiss away the emotional trauma of having a distant and negligent alcoholic father no matter how much she tried. The Serpents offered him something she couldn't and while quietly she nursed a small pang of jealousy, a larger part of her felt happy for him. 

She couldn't have anticipated the negative side effects his choice might have on their relationship or her life. She definitely couldn't have predicted the events that would lead to her mother slamming her bedroom door and declaring that she would never see Jughead again as she heard his motorcycle roar to life and pull away outside her window. It was a string of words that left her mother's mouth and swam right into her heart, making a home out of her ribs as they ate away at her from the inside. 

She could feel the blood pulling around her fingertips before she ever felt the stabbing pain of her fingernails digging into her palm, though when she did it was a relief. A physical manifestation of an invisible wound in her chest. It wasn't that she didn't think she couldn't live without Jughead (something she would later learn more about), it was that she didn't think it was fair she should have to. 

The thought of waiting until her mother fell asleep before she snuck out the front door felt like years away, so Betty descended the ladder that had stood unused for almost a year next to her window. Her legs propelled her forward, in the direction of Jughead's trailer, and when she got there she didn't know if it was from the run or the gaping hole in her chest but she couldn't breathe. Jughead's arms held her steady and close, as his warm breath hit her ear, begging her to breath. 

When her body finally found a rhythm that worked efficiently to pull air in and out of her lungs, slowing her heart rate to a livable beat, Betty found herself straddling Jughead's lap as he searched her eyes for some sort of reassurance that this wasn't the end, that her mother's threats weren't going to be enough to break a bond he could feel with his bones. She didn't have words for the moment, no sweet poem of a promise, no cliché ride or die trope. All she had was him and a need that had been growing in her belly since the first kiss they shared on this very same couch. 

It wasn't like the movies, or any of the books her sister had read to her out loud when they were just giggling little girls hiding under the covers with a flash light way past their bedtime. Physically it hurt, a pinching sort of pain, that dulled enough for some type of rhythm to take form, but never really went away. They both fumbled through it, ripping the first condom as they struggled to get it on him just right. Had this been any other person their cheeks might have burned hot and they might have found it an excuse to slow down, but they just laughed and kissed their way through it. She didn't see stars, or feel fireworks go off in her gut, but there was a sense of fullness, of completeness that was so strong she couldn't stop the tears that rolled from her eyes. 

When they were done, having taken care of the parts no one ever writes about, they laid there on that threadbare couch, holding each other in a silent promise to never let ago. Something about this place, this couch, this boy, filled Betty's heart with a warm sense of stability. 

She fell asleep to him whispering _I love_ _you_  and the promise of _better next time_  in her ear. 

**Age** **18**

_Something about lonely nights_

_And the lipstick on your face_

It's not that she didn’t want to go, because she did. Columbia had been the plan from the moment she first watched the giant printers at her parent's newspaper office printing their latest story. The smell of the ink, the feel of the warm smooth paper, and the excitement in her gut as the last name _Cooper_  was printed in bold lettering. She wanted to be a journalist, and Columbia was her ticket there. Still, as she stood on the platform waiting for her train, her tear-soaked face buried in Jughead's chest, she couldn't help but mourn the loss of a life they had somehow built for themselves. 

For the last year and a half Betty had been living at Jughead's trailer, the place that felt more like a home to her then her giant house ever had. It had been the result of a year of screaming matches, threats of punishment, and nasty words thrown her way by her mom. As time went on after her dad left her mother grew more and more bitter, taking her misplaced anger out on her daughters. Polly had long since left, leaving town in the passenger seat of her boyfriend's candy red 1961 Impala, not even taking the time to hug her own sister goodbye. 

For Betty, the final straw that broke the proverbial camel's back came on a cold autumn night, after her mom had mixed her wine and vodka. What started out as their typical sparing match about how Betty was throwing her life away for a boy that would go nowhere in life, turned lethal when Alice's palm met the soft skin of Betty's cheek. It was followed by a ringing in her ears, a sound she had only ever heard once before, singing out from the edge of her mother's glass. 

An hour later Betty stood on the small porch of Jughead's trailer, two duffle bags full of all the clothes and belongings she could manage to grab while her mother screamed and cried and pleaded with her. Her cheek still stung from where a hand had made contact and she could feel the swelling starting to take form under her eye. The look on Jughead face was enough to start a fire in a rain forest. 

It had been a year and a half of total bliss. Riding to and from school on his motorcycle, hugging his body as tight as she could as they whipped through the streets; hanging out in the corner of the Whyte Whyrm, a bar owned and run by the Serpents while Jughead went on _runs_ , never asking what those runs entailed; getting drunk off cheap beer Sweet Pea would sneak out of the bar down at Sweetwater River with Toni and Fangs, leaning in close to Jughead as they all sat under a canopy of stars. It was a life she had fallen in love with, just as much as she had fallen in love with the boy she shared it with. 

When the time came to fill out college applications, they had their first fight. He had been less than enthusiastic about their senior year since it started and when he finally made the declaration that he wouldn't be going to college, but instead would stay here and start working full time at the Whyrm, Betty felt the floor underneath her feet start to crumble. Visions of the two of them sharing a dorm, huddled over college textbooks surround by piles of junk food began to dissipate in her mind, replaced with a picture of her alone in a small bed that wasn't hers with a roommate who didn't understand her obscure pop culture references. 

He never asked her to stay and though a small part of her, hidden away in a secret compartment in her heart wished he had, she was grateful. They made plans for skyping, facetiming, phone calls, visits on holiday's and free weekends, and all the other logical plans a couple testing the waters of long distance make. 

Her first night there, and for many weeks and months following, she cried herself to sleep on a lumpy mattress in a small brown room across from a girl who pretended not to hear, while he curled up on her side of the bed, in a trailer in a town miles and miles away from her, letting the loneliness seep into his bones. 

**Age** **19**

_Sit back down where you belong_

_In the corner of my bar with your high heels on._    


A whole year had gone by since the last time Betty had been inside the Whyte Whyrm. She was seated at a table in the corner, the same one she sat at many times before, only this time she was unseen by the person she wanted to see her the most. She watched as Jughead filled drink orders, cracked open beers with the bottle opener attached to the bundle of keys that hung from his hips with authority, and smiled charmingly at the customers that entered the door. 

It had been six months since she last saw him. He came to visit her, with the news that he now owned the Whyte Whyrm. His dad had gotten out of jail a month after she left for college, sober and ready to move on with his life. After completing a sober living treatment, he signed over the bar to Jughead, affectively putting him in charge of not only the bar itself, but also the Serpents, and then hit the road heading west toward Toledo, where his mom and sister had made a life for themselves. 

They spent that weekend naked, tangled in her sheets, making promises they hadn't manage to keep. Betty had been all set to come home for the summer when an internship at the New York Times put a stake in any plans she made. This was what she was working toward in school and the choice to stay, no matter how difficult it was, was clear. 

With Jughead having new and time-consuming responsibilities running the club and the bar, and Betty busy at her internship fetching coffee's and soaking up as much information as possible, they hadn't been able to see each other. Skype dates were few and far between, even phone calls, when they happened, were brief and formal. Neither had ever been a fan of texting, but they tried, ultimately failing whenever the brutal truth of them no longer having anything in common would nearly punch Betty in the gut. 

The last six months Betty had felt something planting itself inside her chest, growing slowly every time a day went by there they hadn't gotten a chance to talk at all. Even now, sitting at her table, in what was now his bar, his eyes locked with hers as he realizes she's there, she can feel the distance. It was her birthday and her mom, with whom she'd worked to mend their relationship, practically begged her to come home, so she found a way, and took the train into town, with only two nights to spare. 

They had made their way back to the trailer after he finished closing the bar. She sat on the couch, wrapped only in his loose-fitting flannel while he clumsily strummed away on an old acoustic guitar his dad left behind, singing _Heart of Gold_ by Neil Young, wearing nothing but a smile. He didn't have a good voice and he wasn't particularly good at playing, but Betty didn't care. The moment was so surreal and fleeting she bit back tears as she felt something give way in her chest. 

Not seeing him for six months, not hearing his voice, feeling his touch, it had all been difficult. She spent many nights huddled in front of the small closet in the studio apartment she was subletting for the summer, sobbing as she held pictures and letters from their time together. Yes, it had all been painful, but sitting here with him, in the only place she had ever felt truly at home, knowing that after tomorrow she would be back to a life that no longer included him, she felt herself coming apart at the seams. 

They made love the whole night, their bodies mussing up the sheets on his bed, and in the morning, before the sun had even began to wake, she gathered her things and left without saying goodbye. She didn't spend another night in Riverdale, opting to catch a train back to New York City before breakfast. She cried the whole way there. She cried for weeks after, only stopping when a cold numbness set in; an icy layer of frost covering her heart. 

As much as it hurt, she knew it was the right decision. He deserved the chance at a happy life. Though she was sure she would never move on, never find someone whose arms felt like home and who knew her inside and out, she hoped at least she would be able to live and succeed without the heavy weight of what they could have been sitting on her chest. 

It would take only two short years to figure out she was wrong. 

**Age** **21** **_again_ **

_It's been two years since I let you go_

_I couldn't listen to a joke or Rock and Roll_

_This time I'm not leaving without you._

Standing not more than two feet away from the man she left behind in the single most regrettable act of her life two years ago, Betty focused all her strength on standing up right. He hadn't spoken a word, not uttered a sound, and the silence growing between them was threatening to tear Betty apart from the inside out. It was not lost on her that he might not want to see, that he might react badly, or ask her to leave, but she hadn't planned on him simply not acknowledging her. She didn't need to know what the other options felt like to know this hurt worse. 

Unsure how much longer she could stand there before her resolved faded, giving way to the volcano of panic threatening to erupt in her chest, Betty turn on her heel and headed quickly toward the door, wrapping her arms around herself to keep from falling apart. 

She had not made it more than a few steps off the front porch before a voice sounding more like a prayer called after her. 

_"_ _Betty, wait_ _."_

Turning her head so hard she felt a pain in her neck she was once again met with his eyes, so close she could feel his breath on her face, only now instead of the hard gaze they held before, they were unsure, searching her own as if to make sure she was really there. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, so much so she could almost feel his skin on her finger tips, but before she could, his hand was on her elbow leading her away, in the direction of his bike. 

Wordlessly he handed her a helmet as he got on and started his bike, the engine roaring beneath him, a deafening sound that caused Betty to startle. She didn't take long before getting on the back, hesitantly wrapping her arms around his waist as he pulled out of the parking lot. She knew where they were going the minute he pulled out and the unsure feeling she had had moments ago faded away. 

The trailer was exactly as she remembered it. The couch, the one they had their first kiss one, the one they made love on for the first time and many times after, still sat in the same spot. There were more books littered around the room, a newer looking laptop asleep on the coffee table, and the dusty brown curtains she remembered were now replaced with a set of deep red ones, but everything else remained the same, as if placed in a time capsule. 

She sat down gingerly on the couch while he stood by the door, removing his jacket and fiddling with his beanie. Only three words had been spoken between them since she arrived at the bar and though she had a whole speech planned, when she searched her brain she came up empty, like a notebook full of blank pages, so she was unbelievably grateful when he spoke first. 

_"What are you doing here Betty?"_

_You brought me here_  were the first words to enter her mind, though she didn't let them slip from her mouth deciding sarcasm probably wasn't the smartest route to take in this moment. 

_"I needed to see you."_

_"Why? It's been two year, why now? What do you want?"_

_You_. The word was on the tip of her tongue, begging for her to spit it out. To tell him all the ways her life was empty and meaningless without him. She wasn't sure if this was the right choice, hell she wasn't sure if even being here, coming back into his life when she knew nothing about it anymore, was even a good idea but she was here and if she didn't say what she needed to say it would be the second biggest regret of her life.  

Taking a deep breath as if the air was confidence and she was trying to gather as much of it as she could, she looked down at her hands before she spoke. 

_"I'm here for you Jughead. The last two years of my life_ _have_ _been... empty. I made the choice to leave you because I didn't think there could ever be any amount of pain worse_ _than_ _standing by, watching us drift apart, and not being able to stop it. I thought it would be like ripping off a band-aid, it would hurt for_ _a while_ _, but then the pain would dull and I would just be left with a small scar, but I was wrong. It was like taking a_ _gun_ _shot_ _to the chest and never getting the wound treated. I considered calling you, or coming back, but that didn't seem fair."_

_"And coming back now seems fair?"_

_"No. I know it's not fair. But yesterday I was sitting at my desk, staring at the blank page on my computer and something inside me_ _b_ _r_ _o_ _k_ _e_ _._ _I_ _w_ _a_ _s_ _n_ _'_ _t_ _h_ _a_ _p_ _p_ _y_ _,_ _I_ _h_ _a_ _d_ _n_ _'_ _t_ _b_ _e_ _e_ _n_ _h_ _a_ _p_ _p_ _y_ _s_ _i_ _n_ _c_ _e_ _._ _._ _._ _s_ _i_ _n_ _c_ _e_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _l_ _a_ _s_ _t_ _t_ _i_ _m_ _e_ _I_ _s_ _a_ _t_ _o_ _n_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _s_ _c_ _o_ _u_ _c_ _h_ _w_ _i_ _t_ _h_ _y_ _o_ _u_ _._ _C_ _o_ _l_ _u_ _m_ _b_ _i_ _a_ _..._ _N_ _e_ _w_ _Y_ _o_ _r_ _k_ _..._ _i_ _t_ _m_ _a_ _y_ _h_ _a_ _v_ _e_ _b_ _e_ _e_ _n_ _t_ _h_ _e_ _d_ _r_ _e_ _a_ _m_ _b_ _u_ _t_ _I_ _d_ _o_ _n_ _’_ _t_ _t_ _h_ _i_ _n_ _k_ _I_ _e_ _ver_ _sto_ _p_ _p_ _e_ _d_ _t_ _o_ _th_ _i_ _nk_ _a_ _b_ _o_ _u_ _t_ _what that would look like."_

In truth, she hadn't ever planned for him. She stubbornly clung to the idea that career, first and foremost, was supposed to be the most important thing in her life. Maybe it was the feminist in her, though the voice in her head sounded suspiciously more like her mother, but it never dawned on her until now she could choose what was the most important thing to her. Did she love writing for the Times, yes, but it couldn't ever fill the Jughead shaped hole that had grown in her heart. 

_"Did you ever stop to think about what my life might_ _look like now before waltzing back in here and making this grand declaration? That maybe I had built a life for myself, one that I loved and_ _enjoyed_ _. That maybe I... maybe I shared that life... that I had someone."_

Betty's lungs deflated, her ears beginning to ring with the sound of glass singing out louder then she'd ever heard it. If the world opened up and swallower her hole in this very moment surely it would be an act of mercy from the universe. A swift painless ending, saving her from the tearing taking place inside her. But the earth reminded intact, her lungs continued to take in air, and there were no more fancy metaphors to describe the pain felt at the image of Jughead and _someone_. 

Truthfully it wasn't something that crossed her mind. She had been with no other person since she left this very trailer that morning two years ago, residing herself to a life alone, finding what little comfort she could in the fact that the last hands to touch her body in that way would always be his. Ignorantly she had somehow convinced herself the same would be true for him. 

Feeling almost drunk, uncomfortably so, she rose quickly from the couch, stumbling on her own feet as she reached for the door. If he did have someone else, shared a life with someone else, surely that life resided here and that meant this was no longer her home. Feeling like she was fifteen years old all over again she was overcome by the urge to flee. 

_"Oh, I'm, oh my gosh. I'm so sorry Jughead. I didn't think, I'm such an asshole, how could I be so_ _s_ _tupid_ _. I'll just... go."_

The words spilled from her mouth, a tub overfilled with water, spilling out onto the floor making a mess of everything around it. Her palms stung as her nails pushed past layers of skin scarred over skin. It was only fair, a sweet wort of karma for a wrong decision made with the right sort of intentions. 

Her shaky hand was on the knob of the door with she felt a warm sensation on her waist, pulling her back into the place she was so desperately trying to escape. 

_"Betty, stop. I'm sorry, there's no one else, there's never been anyone else."_

If there was any length of time between the words leaving his lips and his lips meeting hers, she missed it. He kissed her like he was a man starved and she was the sustenance that would bring him back from the brink of death. 

They made love on the couch that night, crying through kisses and waves of bliss, pouring every ounce of love, and heartache, and pain into each other until they were so full there was nothing left for them but the sweet relief of sleep. 

Tangled up in each other, asleep there on the couch, the world around them blissfully ignorant to the storm that brewed inside that tiny trailer. 

This was home, _something about this_ _place, something about just knowing when it's right, you and_ _I._


End file.
